*Three Months Later*
Bai Zhiqi stood before the window of Ji Yanluo's private condominium, the city stretching endlessly before her. The winter sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows over the skyline. She held a cup of warm tea in her hand, untouched, as steam curled toward the ceiling.
The air was silent, but inside her mind, a storm brewed.
Across from her, a billboard flickered to life. Its vibrant colors drew her gaze—and there she was.
*"Bai Lanyue—The Nation's Beloved Pianist Returns to the Stage at the Sapphire Gala."*
Zhiqi's breath stilled.
There she was, smiling like she hadn't destroyed a life. Elegant fingers spread gracefully across piano keys, eyes closed in serene concentration. The face of innocence. The symbol of talent.
The image was nauseating.
Bai Zhiqi's fingers curled tightly around the teacup, knuckles whitening. She hadn't seen a piano in five years, let alone touched one. Her fingers—once praised, once envied—now bore invisible shackles of a crime she hadn't committed.
And Bai Lanyue… was still reaping the glory.
How convenient it was, Zhiqi thought bitterly, that the real culprit got to shine while she rotted in a cell. How easy it had been for her adoptive sister to cry crocodile tears and let her take the fall.
But three months ago, the door to that cell had opened.
She had stepped back into the world with nothing—no name, no family, no justice. Just a shell of the prodigy she used to be.
Yet the fire hadn't died. It had simply waited.
The billboard changed to show Lanyue in an interview.
*"Music is about healing,"* she said sweetly. *"I dedicate my performance to all those who've supported me… and to the one I miss the most."*
Zhiqi scoffed.
*Support?*
*Healing?*
*The one you miss?*
Was it her name? Her talent? Her life?
The cup slipped from her grip, shattering on the floor. Tea splashed across her slippers, but she didn't flinch. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unblinking.
*"You've had your time, Bai Lanyue,"* she whispered. *"Now it's mine."*
Behind her, soft footsteps approached.
"Miss Bai?" Xiao Lin peeked in, startled by the broken porcelain. "Are you okay?"
Zhiqi turned slowly, her face calm again. "I'm fine. Just lost my grip."
Xiao Lin glanced at her with concern but didn't press. She moved to clean up the shards.
"Let me," Zhiqi said firmly, kneeling beside her. "I made the mess."
Xiao Lin hesitated, then nodded and stood. "Dinner will be ready soon. Do you want me to bring it to your room?"
Zhiqi shook her head. "No. I'm going out."
"Now?" Xiao Lin blinked. "It's getting dark."
Zhiqi rose, brushing her hands on her pants. "Just for a walk."
She didn't wait for a reply. She slipped into her coat, grabbed her bag, and stepped into the night.
***
Outside, the air was cold and sharp against her skin, but it helped her think. She walked aimlessly through the streets for nearly an hour, passing glowing storefronts, couples arm in arm, street performers and laughter.
But all she saw was *that face* on the screen.
She didn't know where she was heading until she stopped in front of an old bookstore she used to visit in her youth. Its windows were dusty, shelves dimly lit. But it reminded her that she hadn't always lived in shadows.
That there had once been light. Hope.
She would never get that life back.
But she could *take back what was stolen*.
She stepped inside the store and picked up a notepad. No cameras, no audience. Just ink and paper.
Sitting in the farthest corner, she wrote a name:
*Bai Lanyue.*
Then she wrote another.
*Bai Heng.*
Another.
*Zhou Qingyi*—the socialite who testified against her.
Each name was followed by a short sentence.
*"Owes a debt."*
*"Chose silence."*
*"Spoke lies."*
One by one, the pieces began falling into place.
She didn't need the world to know her name yet.
She just needed them to remember what they did.
And when the curtain rose—*she* would be the one playing the final note.